An Industrial Revolution of a Different Sort
by windfish
Summary: The Once-ler gets a rude awakening, and with the help of his friends- the Lorax and the local fauna- he attempts to redeem himself before it's too late for trees and his conscience, even if it means going against his mother and the company.
1. reform

**author's note**: i don't really have much to say; it's going to be a multi-chapter fic, no idea how sporadic updates are gonna be or whatever. nothing too adult, no pairings, though there's some cursing in this chapter (and possibly in future chaps) and mention of child abuse/neglect, mostly on the emotional spectrum. reviews are greatly appreciated. and any criticism, as well... i would like to make this as best as i can, and i am not opposed to fixing any errors or misleading passages in order for this to become a reality. i haven't written a whole lot of fic so i apologise for any out of characterness on behalf of anyone.

* * *

He wasn't even paying attention to what his mother was saying anymore; it all seemed to drown out as his mind replayed the Lorax's conversation from earlier that week. It shouldn't have stayed with him, not any more than any of the others had, swept up in a hectic tide of meetings and paperwork and things much more important than some environmentalist wotsit. It didn't matter that it wasn't about the trees- it should have left him just as quickly as the passing guilt of the trees, but it didn't.

_"Your mom shouldn't be talking to you like that." The orange puff crossed his arms, giving the Once-ler a look of seriousness. He could feel the disgusting half-empathy coming from those green eyes, staring up at him calmly._

_ "Oh, let me guess, she should be moaning to me every day about trees like _you_ do, then!" He'd had enough. Complaining about trees, making offhand comments about the things in his office- "a new guitar?" "that chair seems pretty excessive, even for _you_, beanpole."- and now going so far as to bring his family into this? He couldn't stand the passive-aggression and the jealousy from what tried to pass itself as a noble being._

_ "When was the last time your mother told you she loved you?" He stood up from his desk, then, to his full height. He was already taller than the Lorax when sitting, but hoped that his 6'4" frame- sans hat- would be enough to intimidate the forest guardian into leaving. He wouldn't make his brothers throw him out, it wasn't worth the effort and he found the thought vaguely insulting. He could handle himself versus a twenty pound lump of facial hair._

_ "Why should I even concern myself with that? I _know _she loves me. She's my mom. Of course she does." Honestly, he hadn't even put much thought into the words- he'd never heard them before in his life, as far as he could remember, but he knew that she loved him. That was enough for him._

_ "Are you trying to convince me or yourself, kid?" He bristled at the question- how _dare_ he doubt his legitimacy! "What about last week- she made you go to that photoshoot after an allnighter, she told you that you didn't even have time for a nap! That doesn't sound like a loving parent to me."_

_ "It was important. I can't just stop public relations or take a _break_, I'm running a huge corporation here! I got to sleep that night, that's good enough."_

_ "She couldn't reschedule to let you take a rest?"_

_ "I don't know!" He threw his hands up in the air, glaring down at the pest in his office. "It was important. It's for the company."_

_ "You're tired. Those stupid glasses of yours aren't hiding anything, beanpole." There was a sigh- a _sigh_- and the Once-ler could only hear the exhalation as a condescending remark on his appearance._

_ "I'm working hard for the company. It's not easy, I never expected it _to_ be easy!" He could hide the dark circles under his eyes with cosmetics and cover up everything else with his sunglasses and no one would know any better- except his mother, of course. He had to learn how to apply the makeup from someone, even if it was with the unfortunate bonus of jabs at his masculinity. She was just teasing when she said those things, though, and trying to motivate him to take better care of himself in the first place._

_ "Is your mom working hard for the company, too, or is she just getting you to do everything while she's off getting toasted at those fancy parties?"_

_ "What is your _deal_? What do you have against my mom?" _

_ "What does she have against _you_, Once-ler?" It had been the first time he referred to him by name- and it drove a stake of anger straight through him in the sarcasm it presented itself with._

_ "What do _you_ know about family anyway? You're just some… some furry peanut in charge of some stupid trees!" He didn't care that he raised his voice, not in the least. This insufferable little hippie had no place to even be talking to him like he knew what it was like- his mother and his brothers and his aunt and uncle weren't anything like those stupid trees of his._

_ "I know more than you do, apparently." The Lorax looked at the boy- despite his impressive height, with or without his ridiculous hat, he was still just a little boy to the forest spirit. He sighed, turning back to the open balcony doors that overlooked the decimated groves. There was one last glance backward, a pitying look that left the Once-ler with a feeling of anger. He was being condescending, wasn't he? He didn't know anything about human customs, or human families, or him, as a human, and he scoffed._

"Ma?" His voice wasn't supposed to be quite so quiet or lack in confidence, either, but he let it slide.

"Yes, Oncie?" That sweet voice of his mother's just seemed to make it worse; it reminded him of the stomachache he'd gotten once from eating a whole bag of marshmallows, and it had reminded him of that for quite some time, but he didn't like to put the two together. It was just an unfortunate coincidence.

There was an uncomfortable silence as he realised he had forgotten what he meant to say, and he could feel his mother's gaze boring into him, a scowl starting to form on her face. He gave a small, uncomfortable smile before bringing his shoulders up into a half shrug.

"I'm very busy, so make it quick. I haven't got all day." He tried to keep his voice straight, clearing his throat a bit awkwardly. There was a small pause, and he added with a slightly lower tone, "You love me, right?"

"Oh, _shoot_, I've got a meeting to get to, sweetie, I'll be back at four. Try to not ruin the place without me!" She gave a small wink as she sauntered to the door. He tried again before she closed the door, just in case she hadn't heard.

"You _do_ love me, right, ma?" She froze for a moment before continuing out the door. She'd heard. She had to. Why didn't she answer? He felt a presence in the room with him, and turned to find the Lorax leaning against the railing on his balcony, letting himself in.

The Once-ler bit his lip, looking at the guardian for an impossibly long time- somewhere in the neighbourhood of six seconds- before turning his chair back to face the doors his mother had left from. He didn't care what the Lorax said this time, but he didn't say anything. He just stared sadly at the boy, leaving a heavy silence in between the two of them. Nothing _needed_ to be said, he thought, since it was clear to him that the human was finally _getting it_.

The Once-ler shifted at his desk, and it caught the attention of the Lorax. He put his face in his hands and slumped over the desk- not particularly surprising, he guessed, given what he'd finally started to realise. It was when he saw his shoulders shaking and hunched up around his ears, and he heard the faint sniffle, that he gave a look of surprise. He wasn't even aware the idiot was capable of crying- even when his thneed had failed, even when he'd been made the laughing stock of Greenville, even when bar-ba-loots had left him with nothing to eat, he'd never cried. He gave a huff or a smile and bounced back as well as he could, with that irrational optimism the Lorax couldn't help but find annoying back then- now he secretly wished for that back.

He hadn't been nearly as carefree, or animated, or generally, well, _happier_, it felt, since he'd started this whole mess- his strides grew shorter and shorter, his pose was stiffer and straighter, and he'd caught sight of shadows under his eyes and he'd had to close the balcony doors on some nights when the up-and-coming millionaire had fallen asleep at his desk, pen still in hand and glasses cock-eyed on his face.

He hadn't expected him to cry- he didn't rightfully know what to do or say to console the boy. Trees didn't cry, not in the same way that humans did, and the Once-ler was the first human he'd interacted with in more years than he could really remember, and he pulled on his mustache, wrapping long fibers around fingers as he tried to think of something- anything- to help.

The Lorax climbed up on the desk- quite the feat for someone of his stature- pulling out desk drawers to use as a makeshift step stool. The lanky human didn't seem to notice him yet, and he patted him on the shoulder with an orange hand to comfort him as best as he could. A wailing sob left the Once-ler, and he shifted his hands into his hair, pulling as he openly cried, now. There were hiccuping sobs and gasping breaths and unattractive sniffling and all manner of noises and sounds that were very much alien to the forest guardian, who only desperately rubbed the shoulder of the businessman below him. He didn't know what to say- and he _always_ knew what to say. The Lorax bit his lip, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He was supposed to know what to say, that was the whole _point_ of being a guardian, wasn't it?

"Sorry, beanpole. I just couldn't let you keep lying to yourself like that, it ain't healthy for a guy." Good enough, right? He looked expectantly at the boy, not getting much of a response. He rubbed his shoulder more, and tucked a stray hair behind his ear, before continuing. "You're… you're gonna be fine." Nothing, though the crying seemed to die down a bit. "Come back to the valley with us, we'll play cards, you can stay, no harm done as long as you don't start choppin' trees again…" Still no real response, verbally, but he was pleased to find the Once-ler looking up at him through his fingers, face wet and puffy and red with tears but calming down, at least a little.

The Lorax smiled at the human apologetically, trying to get that smile back- he never realised how much he preferred the obnoxious, beaming beanpole. He promised himself he'd never threaten the kid again if he started singing in the shower at seven in the morning- he'd be happy enough with the singing, with the smile in his voice and on his features.

He wasn't sure what took him so long- if his mother had disillusioned him to the point of near-blindness, or if he was too preoccupied with trying to please her to see it, but he realised with a start that he'd had it all along. He'd had someone who genuinely cared about him, even before he finally made it big- the Lorax. Even if he cared for the trees, he could tell that there was enough room for him in the creature's heart, as well, and he nearly screamed at himself for never realising it previously. He honestly, genuinely, _cared_ about him as a person, and not just as the CEO of a successful company or the inventor of a life-changing product.

Long, thin arms grabbed the forest guardian, and pulled him close for a hug. The creature was surprised at first, but after a short moment, returned the gesture, feeling the tenseness in the human's shoulders dropping. He patted him on the back as the Once-ler drew back, wiping his runny nose with the sleeve of hisexcessively long gloves. He gave a small, strained smile, but the Lorax could tell that it was just as genuine as they used to be, and smiled in response.

"It's not too late to fix this."

"Y-yeah. Yeah! It's not, is it?" That confidence was coming back to him, and he shuffled his glasses back on to hide the smeared cosmetics and bloodshot blue eyes from anyone else. "I'll fix this, we can harvest the tufts instead, a-and…" He looked to the doors his mother had exited from, giving a small sigh as he leaned back in the chair. "… I'll… I'll deal with my mother separate." She worked for him, didn't she? He shouldn't be afraid of what his mother had to say about things- she didn't even care about him, so he tried to tell himself he didn't care all too much about her, either.

* * *

"Look, we've got enough people now that we can harvest the tufts without a problem…" He leaned over steepled fingers, looking at his mother expectantly.

"Won't that cut down on productivity, Oncie?" She asked, pouting a little. "I just don't see how it's very practical, when we've got such a high demand on our thneeds…"

"It's… called supply and demand. If we slow down a little, people will pay more for them because there won't be as many. It'll work."

"Sweetie, now where did you hear about that? If you go raisin' prices like that, who's to say people will even _buy_ them?"

"I read about it. In a book. You always said I wasn't good at business stuff, but I think I'd like to learn, so I can take care of things on my own. So uh, you could have a break." He tried to contest his mother as passively as he could, feeling his palms growing sweaty under his gloves.

"Oh, come on now, sweetie, I don't need a break- if you wanna work harder, I'm sure I could schedule you more events-" He swallowed, definitely not wanting more photoshoots and public speeches, "-but you still don't know the basics about business, Oncie, and you're gonna have to face that. Your mama knows what she's talkin' about, before your deadbeat dad up and left us, I helped with his finances, don't you know?"

"I'm the head of the company, Mom." He cleared his throat a little, straightening himself and trying to appear as confident as he could. "It's my decision, in the end, and I decided to _harvest_ the tufts, instead. We've got enough manpower to work with it."

"You may be the head of the company, Oncie, but don't you go forgettin' who _I_ am- I'm your mama! I know what I'm talkin' about, and you're still _my_ son, so _you_ listen to _me_." She pointed a finger accusedly at the Once-ler's chest, and he frowned at her from behind his glasses.

"I made it on my own _without _you, or the rest of the family!" He stood up, putting his hands flat on his desk as he leaned over. "You guys only came because I asked you to come, because I finally made it big!"

"Now that's not true, Oncie! Me and your brothers were worried sick, we thought you up and died!" He could practically hear the lies in her voice, and he rolled his eyes.

"Really? Because, you know, I'm pretty sure you said you _expected_ me to die!" His mother flinched at his exclamation, scowling up at him. "Worried sick, my _ass_."

"_Oncie_. Where did you learn that kinda language? I'm ashamed of you!"

"I learned it from _you_, mom! Or did you just conveniently forget how you used to yell at me and tell me I wasn't worth a _damn_ and I was a lazy piece of _shit_ and a whiny little _bitch_ and you wish you'd gotten that _fucking_ abortion," His voice nearly broke with each curse, unusual on his tongue and waiting for a sharp, nasally reprimand, "Because I remember it pretty darn well, myself!"

"You sit your ass down, young man!" She stood up to match him, stooped over his desk.

"Why should I listen to _you_? You work for _me_, you know. Don't even give me that _family_ business, either, because you and I both know that you never even loved me in the first place! You couldn't even _lie_ and _pretend_ like you ever loved me!"

"How _dare_ you, Oncie! I fed you, and clothed you, and gave up my own house and home for your sake! I gave you everything a spoiled brat like you would ever need, and then some!"

"Yeah? Well what about love! What about making me feel like I was actually worth something?" He brought his face inches from his mother's, a snarl on his lips. "Are you just gonna walk away again and not even give me an answer?"

The slap had knocked his garish sunglasses off his face, turning his head painfully as a bracelet dug at his eye and fingers and nails scraped against his cheek. It had stung, and the sound permeated the air even after his mother had returned her shaking hand to her chest. Tears welled up instinctively at his eye and he straightened his neck to look his mother in the eye; he no longer felt like the self-assured twenty-something year old sitting before his mother previously. He felt all over again like a little boy, locked out of the house for taking too long on his chores, curling up in the barn with a mule, and he _hated_ that feeling. A hand rested on his warm cheek, staring absently forward.

"Oncie, I didn't mean it." His mother seemed frightened, but whether it was at his cold gaze or her behaviour, he couldn't tell. "You know your mama would never hurt you, Oncie…!"

He shook his head. If she would never hurt him, why had she slapped him? It certainly wasn't the first time, and his mind swelled with thoughts of being locked in and out of places, being told to go without food, at curses and yelling and all the other times his mother had certainly, definitely, hurt him. The Once-ler gave his mother a cold look as he turned on his heel and steadily came to the doors, opening them without dignifying his mother with a response. He walked through the balcony doors, closing them quietly behind him with a gentle click.

"Fine. You know what, we don't even _need_ you to run the company! Me, your brothers… we can handle it all on our own, you were only ever just a puppet! You and your stupid guitar!" He could scarcely hear his mother's shouting over the sound of the footsteps he was concentrating on. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ Shift. _Tap. _Shift_. Tap._ He looked to his left and smiled a little as he saw the Lorax walking next to him.

"You okay, beanpole? I could hear that slap all the way outside!" The Once-ler waved it off with a smile, headed down the stairs and into the stable he'd had built for Melvin.

"It's funny, I feel a lot better now." His voice was cracked and quiet, but he gave a happy sigh as he grabbed Melvin by the reigns. "You ready to go, Melvin? We're gonna go set things right." He frowned a little at the roomy stable and expensive and luxurious foods and treats. "We can't really take much of this with us, sorry."

Melvin gave a whinny and a look that told the Once-ler all he needed to know- he didn't care. The human smiled, patting his mule on the back. It would take him all day to gather up his portable cottage by himself, he knew, and perhaps even longer if his mother were to interrupt, but he didn't mind the hassle or work involved. It had taken a very short amount of time, indeed, to pack it up, and there it had more or less stayed- he would need to take it from his storage and re-purchase a wagon to hold it in its entirety, but for a man who was more or less made of money and determination, this was but a small obstacle.

* * *

The Lorax had helped him, and the man smiled warmly as the forest guardian hoisted one end into the hooded wagon. Help and friendship was still something he wasn't quite used to- the fact that they'd managed to get his house mobile by the end of the night was something spectacular, to him. Evidently, the media had thought so too, a stray reporter noticing him leaving the factory premises and snapping nearly half a dozen photos before calling out his name.

"Mister Once-ler! Mister Once-ler!" The voice was shrill and obnoxious at best, and he groaned as he brought Melvin to a stop. Even without the garish suit and his stovepipe hat, he was rather noticeable, and not for the first time in his life, he cursed his height and genes.

"What?" He sighed heavily, adjusting his glasses and hoping they covered up his swollen cheek, though he had a sneaking suspicion that they didn't.

"Exactly why are you leaving, Mr. Once-ler? Where is the limo? The guards? _Can I have your autograph_?" A million questions a second left the woman's mouth, jotting down frantically on her notepad, as if she would lose every moment of interaction just by neglecting to scribe it to paper. "Sorry. Do you have a destination in mind? How is the situation in the factory? Are you going to address the issue of-"

"It's none of your business. I'm not the CEO of Thneedcorp anymore. I quit." There was another bright flash and he flinched away. These pictures were sure to look awful, he assured himself, with his disheveled hair and bruised face, and he cringed. "I'm leaving the company, it- and the factory- is no longer my responsibility." The Once-ler's reply was curt and quiet. "I'm no one now, and I would really prefer to keep it that way." He tipped his grey fedora at the woman before giving Melvin a small nudge forward. "You can go ahead and publish that, let everyone know." He called back, mumbling as he stooped over Melvin. "I'm just a nobody."

His mother would probably call him stupid for setting out at midnight in the middle of autumn, wrapped in his old vest and shirt and a couple of extra sweaters for warmth, wearing nearly every pair of pants he owned with his quilt thrown over his narrow shoulders. He sighed, thinking about how ridiculous the photographs would look- his glasses the only thing reminiscent of his high success (ironically purchased at a dollar store and costing much less than anything else he was wearing, right down to the luxurious shampoo scenting his hair) clothing piled around him and worn fedora shoved over his ears, trying to keep them warm. He looked homeless, he supposed, and it really wasn't too far off the mark, was it? The Once-ler sighed, burying thin hands (stupid, why did he leave the gloves? they at least kept him warm) in the sweaters and coat hanging off his wrist.

By three in the morning, he'd made it to the clearing he set up in just two years ago, giving a sad smile as he noticed how much _clearer_ this particular clearing was, stumps and tree corpses set out in a wide circle around the wagon. With a sigh, he began to set up his cottage, surprised to find bar-ba-loots and the Lorax helping to tie the stakes down- it took significantly less time to set up thanks to him, and he gave his thanks in the form of marshmallows and promises of pancakes when he woke up from a well-needed nap. Maybe he'd even include truffula fruit, if he could find any fruit-bearing trees in the area, he thought. He didn't set up his bed yet- or much of anything, really, the inside of the cottage rather spartan- and decided to retire to the floor with a set of pillows and his patched quilt. It was definitely cold, but he didn't have firewood for the stove he'd yet to setup, and he shivered involuntarily against the chilly wood.

Pipsqueak had been the first to join in the pile, curling up just above the young man's chest, held in place by two long arms sleepily pulling him close. The Lorax begrudgingly joined the bar-ba-loot, tugging a corner of the quilt for himself, and a variety of wildlife soon followed- Melvin took a seat by the Once-ler's head, nickering softly in annoyance as two bar-ba-loots climbed over his back to settle in at the human's back and knees, and a swomme cygnet burrowed at the back of the boy's hair as if it were a nest. The Once-ler snuggled in closer to the animals, a small smile creeping over his face as Pipsqueak pressed a paw worriedly against his blackening eye and cheek. He shook his head and mouthed, "don't worry," before finally closing his eyes and quickly succumbing to sleep.


	2. recovery

**author's notes**: not much to say here... i got to have fun exploring his family history in this chapter. i don't really like the idea of his father being the best thing ever, so i didn't go with that!

* * *

The first day back in the forest, the Once-ler awoke just after noon, the animals having long since scattered from his sleeping form, spare Melvin, Pipsqueak, and the Lorax, who was snoring quite peacefully while using his back as a pillow. Shoulders popping as he stretched himself awake, careful to not entice the wrath of a woken Lorax, the young man yawned and sat himself up, keeping the forest spirit upright against his back.

"Hey. Wake up." He nudged a small orange shoulder, craning his neck sideways to look at the guardian. "I've gotta set this place up, you can't just sleep on me all day." He shifted, watching the creature fall with an indignant _thunk_ as he landed on the floor, waking up with a groan.

"Watch it, kid, can't you tell I was sleepin'?" He rubbed at an eye, and the Once-ler rolled his eyes as he stood up, making his way to the pile of clothing that substituted a wardrobe for the night.

"I've got to set everything back up. I can't just wait for _some people_ to wake up. I'd be there all day." Taking in the sun's position in the sky, he scrunched his nose up, wincing as it jostled his bruise. "Well, what's left of it, at least."

"Fine, whatever. What's first?" The Lorax heaved himself up, hands on knees as he looked up at the tall human, who had turned away to slip on proper trousers over of the soft fleece of his pyjamas. It was too cold to take them off, he figured, and no one would know otherwise.

"Um… well, I guess…" He looked into the kitchen, with boxes of dishes (which were soon to be hummingfish homes and swomme swan nests, he was sure) and a stovetop and refrigerator waiting to be connected into his (genius, he would add) self-sufficient gas and electricity generator within the closet space of the cottage. His stomach gargled in unhappiness, and he considered the lack of dinner from the night before. "I'll set up the kitchen first, and then I'll make some… uh, lunch, I guess, and then we'll go from there."

It really hadn't taken too long to set up, and even with the small pancake break in the middle (and by small, of course, he meant several hundred flapjacks and nearly two hours of work, even the bar-ba-loots and hummingfish who hadn't helped wanting some), it took somewhere in the neighbourhood of five hours to set everything up. His bed, the kitchen, the plumbing and electricity, and he stood back with a bounce of his heels, smiling at how quickly it had come to look just as it had years ago.

"Now what?" The Lorax stood beside him, appreciating the setup with a huff and a pair of crossed arms.

"Well…" The Once-ler sat at his desk, slumped in the chair. He hadn't quite thought that far- his only real goal was to leave the factory, and his mother, behind. In fact, thinking about it, he had been more than a little careless- while he did still have his name and identity and bank account, he knew it wouldn't last him forever, especially with his mother's name beside his. He wouldn't be surprised in the least if he'd gone into town only to find that she had indeed closed the account, taking the funds for herself and his company, and he had been left with the mediocre amount in his savings. There was a cold breeze, then, and he shivered under his layered clothing. "… Firewood. For the stove. I'm going to-" His hand reached for his axe, and the Lorax shot him a sharp glare.

"You better not be plannin' on cutting down one of my _trees_, beanpole. You've done enough to them, don't you think?" The green gaze on him made him feel uncomfortable, and he fidgeted under the scrutiny. He could always _buy_ firewood, he supposed, but he had wanted to conserve his funds for food and necessities. When he first came, he'd packed a month's worth of firewood himself, and he had chopped the first truffula trunk in addition, though he really only needed it for a week-long cold snap.

"… But…" He bit his lip, turning to look outside. Then it hit him- the _stumps_. They were just as much wood as the rest of the tree, weren't they? Surely the Lorax would have no opposition to finishing the trees off. "… What about the stumps?" The Lorax smiled after a moment's hesitation, nodding.

"I knew you had it in you to think, kid." He gave a playful shove, walking to the door. "The bar-ba-loots, they'll plant the seeds of the fruits, without the stumps in the way, they'll have room to grow…" Axe in hand, the Once-ler made his way outside with the Lorax, shielding his eyes from the bright sun he hadn't realised he'd missed while working in the factory.

Had he really not stepped out in that long? Save for sparing visits with Melvin, he had confined himself to his work, and kept paintings instead of windows. The air was getting worse around the factory, and he couldn't afford to get sick from smog; the paintings substituted windows, and a heavy air filtration kept the hallways clean of smoggy air. He hadn't seen sunlight except when it came through his balcony doors in his office, and it had been quite some time since he wandered into town. Between the paparazzi and the work his mother was adamant about getting done, he never had time and was always too tired to do much when he did go out, and his visits dwindled into obscurity in the small town.

"…and without those machines o' yours, they won't get trampled when they start to sprout." The Lorax finished as the Once-ler brought his axe down into a stump. He stopped, staring at the forest guardian.

"The… the machines are still there." He sighed, lifting the axe again to split it completely in two- the wood was normally springy and resisted well to an axe, but now it had dried and split far too easily. At least it would burn readily, he figured. "Ma runs the company now, and I… I _tried_ to get them to harvest, instead, but…" He brought his hand to his cheek, frowning a bit. "… I'm sorry."

"Oh?" The Lorax seemed shocked, but took it well enough in stride, a sly smile growing on his face under the mustache. "… Maybe we'll have to work with the forces of nature on that, then."

"All the hummingfish in the forest aren't gonna be enough to pick one of those things up and send them downriver, you know." The Once-ler gave a sad smile, gathering up the oddly angular firewood in his arms and placing it in a cloth sack.

"'Ey, you know, nature works in more than one way." The orange jellybean huffed, smirking under his mustache. "I've got a plan. And this time, beanpole, you're gonna be on my side, right?" The Once-ler gave a small laugh, bringing the sack with him as he made his way back to the cottage.

"Right, of course. I don't have anywhere else to be, after all." He'd left the first stump alone; in all of this mess, in the past year, the rocks had never moved or changed in arrangement, and he felt too perturbed by the thought of ruining the reminder of his promise to bring an axe to it. "I mean, tomorrow I'm gonna go buy more food, but other than that…" He opened the wood stove's front doors, carefully stacking a few short pieces of wood in the firebox. He lit a match and tossed it in the middle, fanning the flames a bit before closing the door and adjusting the diverters for a long, cooler fire.

Satisfied with the heat, he put a kettle with river water on top of the stove for his tea and made his way to the stovetop, pulling out a pot and plucking out a few bar-ba-loot hairs. He added water to the pot and started the heating element under it, scrounging through his pantry for a bag of small potatoes and adding them into the pot with a little bit of salt. He pulled out several other ingredients, including vegetable stock and various spices, setting them around the small countertop. When he set up his cottage, he'd never expected that he'd be cooking for half of the forest and not just himself, but he made due with his limited space well enough, even if his potato soup had to be cooked in three different pots to make enough for the bar-ba-loots and hummingfish and the swomme swans- he even added seasonings and things to each pot to customise the taste for each species' preferences.

Soup was different from pancakes, though, and bar-ba-loots didn't understand the concept of a spoon. In order to keep his cottage as clean as he could, he had hoisted the pots off the stove- with the help of the Lorax and Lou the bar-ba-loot- and set them on a particularly wide stump outside. The lamp hanging from his front door illuminated the night well enough, with help from the moon, and he carefully dished out platters and cookie sheets of soup and set them on the ground for the forest animals, finally spooning a bowl for himself and the Lorax and sitting on a stump to watch the animals.

"You really have a plan there, meatloaf?" He asked over a spoon, not entirely sure the Lorax knew what he was up against- big business certainly wouldn't go down without a fight, and it wouldn't be as simple as a bed in a river to win his mother and the factory over to his side.

"Sure do, beanpole." He gave a sly look, wiping potato soup off of his mustache. "And you're a big part of it, you know."

"Oh." The human looked down to his bowl a little, hat dipping a shadow over his eyes. "… You know I can't do anything, right? I'm not part of the company anymore, mom probably won't even let me back in to get the rest of my stuff, I'm just back to being some nobody living in the woods." He sighed, hoping the Lorax could change his plans at least a little bit.

"You're the nobody who founded Thneedcorp, kid. You can do plenty, trust me." The forest guardian looked up, stealing a spoonful of soup from the Once-ler's bowl before he defensively clutched the bowl closer to himself.

"Well, yeah, I _guess_, but…" He shrugged, taking another spoonful of soup before giving the Lorax a sharp look. "Humans… I mean, I could get _arrested_ if you wanted me to do anything illegal. I couldn't do anything from jail." He sighed, watching one of the younger bar-ba-loots playing in the grass with Pipsqueak.

"Yeah? Well…" The Lorax took in the purple bruising on the side of the boy's face thoughtfully. "… I don't think I'd wanna put you near your mom again anyway, kid. Purple's really not your colour."

"Oh, this isn't anything. When dad was still around, I got hit a _lot_ worse than just that. He'd get drunk and come home and…" He trailed off, leaning his elbows on his knees after setting his empty bowl on the ground. "He hit a lot harder than ma did, and he hit a _lot_ more than just once or twice. I mean, I didn't _like _it- no one did- but ma and I got pretty used to it. I just… wasn't expecting that from her, after all that." The forest guardian looked over at the hunched human, feeling for the second time in too many years that horrible feeling of not knowing what to say. Humans were strange, he would give them that much- he'd seen bar-ba-loots get a quick slap if they were irritating but there was never any true malice behind it. Nothing like the angry slap from his mother, or the beatings from his father, or the words the boy seemed to have gotten much more of than either- he didn't understand what compelled humans toward such behaviour, and he didn't really know if he wanted to know.

"I'm sorry, kid." It seemed to fall short of the comfort he meant to give, and he fidgeted uncomfortably in the silence- a few bar-ba-loots gave a sympathetic glance, and some of the hummingfish gave a somber hum in response. The Lorax hadn't noticed the animals eavesdropping, and he didn't think the beanpole did, either- the forest had been quiet from their meal to begin with, and it wasn't hard to hear them over the sound of nothing.

"It's alright. It's been a long time, I hardly even remember it. Ma got it the worst, I think, anyway…" He chewed on his lip a little- it had been nearly twenty years since he'd seen the last of his father, and the sudden surge of memories was unsettling at best. "Aunt Griszelda ran him out after Ma went to the hospital one time, and we haven't seen him since. I think I remind Ma of him, and that's why she's so…" He paused, trying to think of a good enough word. "… _angry_ with me all the time. I mean, he's the one who taught me guitar, and my hat's his, and… well, I guess I look a _lot_ like him, and it makes Ma really nervous." He swallowed a bit heavily, sinking forward on his elbows. "I'm just glad Chett and Bret didn't have to go through it, they were young enough that I don't think they remember much about the whole thing. And… they're a little slow, I don't think they would really understand it anyway." Truthfully, he envied them as much as he pitied them- they never got to _have_ a father to begin with, who the Once-ler would admit was a pretty great dad when sober. They never got to have guitar lessons during a lazy summer, or a kiss goodnight and sheets tucked around them, or a violent, jarring blow against the kitchen wall.

"That still doesn't give her a right to be treating you the way she did, you know." The Lorax's mustache twitched in sympathy.

"Y… yeah, I guess." He stood up, taking his bowl inside. "It's late, I'd like to get all these dishes done before everyone falls asleep." The Lorax sighed, taking his own bowl and Pipsqueak's inside as well, handing them to the tall man before shoving a stool up to the sink.

"Soup wasn't the best idea if you didn't want a lot of dishes." The forest guardian quipped, taking a cloth in hand. "I'll dry 'em if you're done washing them, how about that?" The human smiled, nodding a little bit as he handed the creature a wet bowl.

"If I didn't know any better, mustache, I'd say you were beginning to like me!" He laughed, nudging the creature with his elbow.

"Well, you're not as stupid as you _were_. You're still an idiot and you've got a long way to go, kid. Don't think I'm gonna go around callin' you my friend any time soon." The creature huffed, drying the bowl and setting it aside.

"Sure." The Once-ler rolled his eyes, content to wash the rest of the bowls in silence before making his way to the bed. It wouldn't be as comfortable as the lavish bed he had in the factory, but he would sleep the same either way; it was at least better than using a bag of marshmallows as a pillow on the road, and it was better than falling asleep at dinner or at his desk by a far stretch, and the animals joining him made him feel much less alone than he did at any of those other points in his history.

* * *

Truffula fruits were growing in the trees not too far west from the cottage- early in the morning, with the help of the animals, he'd harvested enough to make truffula fruit crepes for breakfast. The Once-ler hummed, lifting the delicate crepes out of the pan with the back end of his spatula, dolloping whipped cream and sliced fruit on top and sliding the plate to the end of the counter, where the early risers had been waiting. Most of the other bar-ba-loots and hummingfish and swans were still curled up sleeping in various positions around the cottage, and he couldn't say that he minded very much. The company of Pipsqueak and his cousins was enough for him, and he laughed as he watched the young bar-ba-loot lick whipped cream off of his furry paws.

After breakfast, he walked out to meet Melvin, offering a truffula fruit to the mule as he motioned toward Greenville. Or was it Thneedville? He remembered buying the town, but he couldn't remember if the name change had applied yet… Melvin nudged him, and he smiled, walking with reigns in hand to the city.

The bank had been his first priority- he immediately withdrew about half of his shared account's worth, opening a new account with his name only. Part of him wondered if it was excessive- it was certainly a _lot _of money, but he only planned to use his funds sparingly. He wouldn't let greed take him over, he promised himself, and the more rational part of him wondered if this _might_ be the only money he saw for the rest of his life. The teller gave him a strangely sympathetic look, and he felt rather self-conscious of the bruise on his face, trying to sweep his hair over it as much as he could, though he knew it would do very little but block his vision.

Whispers and word spread fast in the still small town, and as he made his way to the market, he could feel eyes on him. He brought a hand up to shield his face as he turned away, shuffling and tying Melvin to a post outside. Briefly he wondered if the mule would be bombarded or injured from the attention of being the Once-ler's mule, but he figured Melvin had no qualms with kicking people if he were to be disturbed. Patting him on the snout, he entered the marketplace, feeling much smaller than his height would betray him to feel. The whispers and stares didn't stop as he slowly crept down the aisle with a basket in hand, trying to decide what would last him and what he really needed in his cottage. For a moment he contemplated asking people to stop staring, though he knew an outburst would only draw attention to himself- when he'd been in the limelight, he tried to sneak out for milkshakes and gotten trapped by paparazzi and curious folk. Now it seemed to be the same, and he wondered if it was in part due to his fame, still- he couldn't have expected to just disappear, of course, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. At least, he attempted to, cringing when pressure shot through his face with a "darn it."

The cashier gave him a strange look when he brought his basket up to check out- he had enough food to feed an army, nearly, and coming back in a week when the animals had depleted it would be awkward. He hoped he didn't get the same cashier, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and getting lost in his thoughts when the newspaper stand caught his attention. ONCE-LER LEAVING THNEEDCORP was addressed in all capital font, and below was a pair of rather large, full-colour images of himself- before and after his "rise to power," as the newspaper claimed. One showed him as "too big too fail," with his green suit, and the other showed him huddled on a wagon with a bruise on his face and wind-tousled hair, and he sheepishly grabbed the top paper and added it to his bags before the cashier could put the two together. He probably already had, he thought, tipping his hat to the man and paying before making his way back out to Melvin, bags in hand.

No one was waiting for him outside like he had half-expected, but he could still feel the gaze of eyes on him as he carefully put his groceries in Melvin's sidebags. It was enough, he decided, turning to face the man nearest to him.

"What _is _it?" The Once-ler's voice held a quiver to it, and he tried to swallow back any fear he might have had- he was much taller than the other man, and no one had done anything malicious to him yet. Would they even be malicious? He didn't intend to find out the hard way, but from what he could tell, most people were simply… confused. Maybe even more confused than he was.

"Everyone's been wondering why you quit." Definitely confused. He looked at the paper in his bag, scanning the article for any trace of what could have been on everyone's mind- the only thing that caught his eye was a comment about the bruising on his face and his colder-than-usual demeanor toward the reporter.

"There was a… disagreement, of sorts." The Once-ler straightened, trying to seem as formal as he could. "It was in the best interest of the… _company_ that I leave." He nodded with a slight smile, turning back to his mule. "Yep, without me there the company is sure to run smoother!" He stuffed the paper back into the sidebags, gathering up an armful of bags and nudging his hat back when it fell over his face. Quickly, he shuffled off, Melvin in tow, and he wondered vaguely how stupid he looked to everyone in town, with his bruised face and deflated ego, before straightening his back and making his way to the cottage with a renewed vigor.

* * *

The paper didn't really say much about the situation- he sat at his desk with a mug of tea, poring over the article. It was surprisingly short, ending with a "Mr. Once-ler denied further questioning," and he leaned back in his chair at the conclusion. They hadn't been able to reach his mother before being published, and he wondered if they would even try- his mother was notorious around reporters, and with her in charge, he doubted the reporters would get even close to the truth, or the woman behind it all.

"What's that?" The Lorax was blunt, if nothing else, taking the paper into two furry orange paws and staring incredulously at the pictures.

"Can you even _read_, meatloaf?" The creature shook his head, and the Once-ler gave a sigh before taking the paper back. "Whatever. Everyone knows I left, but they don't really know why. I dunno what Ma's gonna say when she finds out, or if she'll say anything…"

"You gonna fight her, beanpole?"

"_What_?" He looked to the Lorax, not sure what the creature was implying. "She's my _mother_, I'm not gonna-"

"I don't mean _fight_ her, I mean… fight _back_. You can't do nothin' illegal, you said, but you can spread the word. Ain't nothing wrong with that. Go find those reporters and tell them all about the harvestin' you were gonna do." The creature gave a nod at his own idea, crossing his arms. "Me and my forces of nature'll do what we can, and you just gotta do what you can." The Once-ler gave a wide smile, thinking about the idea- he was sure his mother would have her fair share of opposition when he uttered a word about the harvesting. He would have to have a backup plan to win against a company many times larger than himself. His guitar, duct taped at the neck, lay against the wall of his studio bedroom, and he gave it a sly smirk.

"Is one of those forces of nature, I don't know… maybe the force of a backup chorus?" He stood up, crossing to the kitchen and dumping out pots and pans and wooden spoons, handing them to bar-ba-loots. "Think you guys can learn a little drumming?" Pipsqueak swung a spoon against a pot, followed by several other bar-ba-loots, and he gave a grin at the animals. "Let's get to work, _nature_."


	3. relapse

**author's note**: i thought i was going to have difficulty keeping this chapter long enough to compare to the other two... surprisingly, this chapter ended up being the longest thusfar! this chapter is a bit of a nod to the reviewer who mentioned the fate of chett and brett- i love them too much to ignore their part of the storyline. and, of course, the song in the beginning is one of the cut songs from the soundtrack- i suggest giving it a listen afterward if you've yet to do so already. the title shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

* * *

The next week, in between planting seeds, teaching bar-ba-loots the basics of drumming on pots and pans, and preparing the ground for new growth, the Once-ler spent time at his desk scribbling on papers. These papers would, in turn, become flyers that he casually pinned up to the bulletin boards around town, taping them to store windows when given permission. They were simple- titled "THE TRUTH IS" in flowing script, each handwritten apology explaining the fate of the forest if his mother wasn't stopped. To those who asked, he provided his half of the story- an unspoken challenge to his mother, who refused to see the press under any circumstances.

It was slow at the start, as any true revolution was, starting with an idea and forming into a series of cogs and gears- it wasn't much unlike his factory, needing the help of dozens and only recently working at maximum efficiency. It took time, as most things did, and it started with a few seeds. The Lorax would have beamed and gladly compared the flyers and quips to the growth of a seed or a forest. In a week's time, his bruising had faded and the photographers made sure to get as many shots as long as it lasted, with stories going around to accompany, saying it was abuse, his mother, not the first time it had happened, variations changing around the whos and the whys. He turned a blind eye to the rumours, though he couldn't help a guilty smirk growing at the reputation his mother was getting.

It was in the middle of week two, the lull after the busiest day for most of the businesses, when the Once-ler truly started his own revolution. Wordlessly with his mule, he walked to the very same gazebo he had first sung at just two years ago, and he unpacked half of his kitchen utensils onto the wooden floor. People stared, but it wasn't like the Once-ler wasn't known for being just a tad eccentric. They even started to ignore the ex-entrepreneur in favour of their daily activities until the young man gave a whistle and a small band of bar-ba-loots came into the gazebo with him. Animals from the forest didn't _come_ to Greenville, and when hummingfish and swomme swans joined the ranks, giving high-fins and gleeful honks to the townsfolk, those who were in the streets gave the mismatched crew rapt attention, and those who weren't were called out to watch. Amps were placed by the front of the "stage," and bar-ba-loots picked up pots and pans and strainers and whatever stirring stick or wooden spoon they could fit comfortably in their paws. Swans assembled and fish hummed out-of-tune, testing each other's voice while swans gave self-conscious honks and crows and the Once-ler hooked his guitar (the red one, of course, as flashy and attention-grabbing as it was) up to the amplifiers. Whispers and mutters of "is he serious" and much more malicious theories spread through the now-numerous crowd, watching the absurdly tall man fiddle with his guitar's tuning and strumming absently.

He looked much different than he had two years ago- those who remembered him as the idiot with the fool thneed were surprised to see the enthusiasm since vanished from his movements. He moved with sheer purpose and intensity, a seriousness to him that seemed unnatural and nearly frightening, and a sour chord silenced any mutterings in the crowd as he lifted a fedora-topped head to eye the crowd. For a few seconds everyone watched with unwavering focus, before falling into hushed whispers once again.

"_Hey_." His voice was loud and sharp and several hummingfish backed him up as the Once-ler stood up straight, the massive charcoal cardigan around him making him seem larger than he was. "No." He inhaled, looking back to his guitar as he strummed a few more notes.

"Booooooodddddy neeeeeds a thneeeeed!" The Once-ler's voice chirped, the youthful energy he'd had buzzing through him in an instant. Hummingfish hummed and beatboxed, bar-ba-loots drumming on pots and pans and colanders, swomme swans conducting it from their perches at the edges of the gazebo.

"Stupid thing no one will ever neeeeeeed~!" He drew out the last syllable, twirling a bit for emphasis, the baggy sleeves of his cardigan flowing in the light breeze it generated. "The thneed is _dumb_, the thneed is _lame_! Who's the _idiot_ who came up with that name!" There was a small blink of realisation on his features as he nervously laughed, "Oh, right, it was me…"

"Nobody needs a thneed!" He continued, not skipping a beat and bobbing his head slightly to the rhythm, giving a nod to the bar-ba-loots and hummingfish. "Stupid thing no one will ever need!" Two of the bar-ba-loots furiously beat on a soup pot and a tilted frying pan. "The thneed is dumb! The thneed is lame~ who's the idiot-" he growled the word, "who came up with that naaaame~?" The crowd had taken to bobbing along enthusiastically with the young inventor and his band of animals, some of the children singing along with the hummingfish that had taken to repeating earlier verses.

"Nobody needs a thneed!" A hummingfish with a deep voice had followed this with a "yeah" and the young man twirled with his guitar. "Break it down!" He kicked his feet, spinning his guitar to rest on his back as he continued. "You don't need it, I don't need it!" He hummed, taking a hummingfish and dancing with it comically. People in the crowd had giggled and tittered with him, taking animals hand in hand and wing in fin to dance with and sing along with.

"We don't need it!" People roared, and he smiled, grabbing his hat to keep it on his head as he belted out another riff with prompting from the bar-ba-loots. "Nobody needs a thneed!" This was all going much better than he had planned for, admittedly, and he didn't notice the crowd's singing dying down quite abruptly, still dancing and singing around with his guitar- it wasn't until his guitar was forcefully unplugged from the amplifier that he looked up, dance dying on his feet.

His mother stood before him, and he nervously clutched his guitar to his chest as he watched her tap her foot impatiently. The crowd had watched nervously over the woman's shoulder, and various animals scuttled behind the Once-ler for protection- it had left a nearly palatable tension in the air between them. Her face was set in a disappointed scowl, and he felt his shoulders raising and his head dipping by sheer instinct- even if he was a grown man and no longer a little boy fidgeting under his mother's scrutiny, he never felt like his full height or age around the woman. He swallowed nervously, giving a small giggle that died on his lips.

"Hey, Ma, nice… seein' you here!" He felt a blush rising in his face and to his ears, tapping a foot in anxiety as he took a step back, experimentally.

"_Oncie_. Just what do you think you're doin' out here? Causin' a big fuss over _nothin'_? I can't say I'm surprised, but it don't make me any less disappointed in you, boy!" The words were sharp, and he winced and took another step back, feeling his guitar nudge against one of the pillars keeping the gazebo up and his hat nudging over his eyes. "Nobody needs a thneed, Once, _really_? It's a product with the use of a thousand, you know! You _made_ the darn thing! Heck, most of the crowd's got one already- some of them are already wearin' them!" She motioned to the crowd, and the boy tilted his hat out of his face to survey them. Women took the pink fabric off of their necks, men tried to fold them out of sight, and several people just gave apologetic looks under thneed hats and accessories. "These folks were just humourin' you because you look like a darned _fool_ up here! They didn't wanna hurt your feelins, bless them."

"I'm… I'm sorry, Ma, I…" He was silenced before he could really begin, nearly flush against the column as his mom took another step forward.

"There ain't no sorries or buts, mister! You already done enough damage to the company, you should just go home to your little miserable _tent _and not show your face around these parts again! Take that fool mule of yours and shove off, how about doin' that? Go on and do that for your mama, Once, because you ain't doin' a _damn_ thing stayin' around in Greenville like you're doin'!" Bar-ba-loots turned to look at the young man, looks of worry and shock on their faces, and hummingfish gaped with open mouths as the could see the Once-ler's bottom lip quivering and rapidly blinking away tears that were threatening to build up at the corner of his eyes.

"Y-yes, ma'am, I'll… y-yeah, this whole thing was… well, it was downright silly of me, wasn't it? I'm sorr-" She cut him off with a sharp glare as he started to apologise, and he simply looked to the ground before kneeling down to gather his kitchen supplies from the animals. "C-come on, guys. Let's go back ho- I mean, to the tent. Yeah." One of the swomme swans gave a mournful honk, only to get a pointed look from the Once-ler's mother. People in the crowd stood silently as they watched the tall man gather up his things, looking to one another and murmuring among themselves. The woman snapped around on her heels, giving the crowd a good long glare until they quieted.

Eyes were on the Once-ler as he slowly put pots and pans back in the saddlebags hanging off of Melvin (who was, despite his mother's glare, giving her a nasty look of his own) and cradled Pipsqueak to his chest. The bar-ba-loot burrowed into his cardigan, and the Once-ler gave a weary smile as he slung his amplifiers over his shoulders- it was going to be a decent trek home, he figured, but he didn't want to leave Melvin to carry most of the equipment back. Hummingfish and swans and bar-ba-loots grabbed utensils and pots, themselves, even going so far as to make a sort of taxi out of two wooden spoons and the largest pot, stacked with utensils and smaller pans and pots- a bar-ba-loot carried the back end, while two hummingfish carried the front end.

A little girl had started to follow the man as he turned to leave town, but her mother pulled her back into her arms and gave an apologetic smile as the Once-ler's mother turned to give a particularly dirty look. When the grey-drab of his clothing disappeared over the hill, followed by speckles of browns and orange and gold, she gave a small, sweet smile.

"I'm so sorry about that, folks! Ya'll can get on with whatever it was ya'll were doin' before my son came along. I promise, we ain't _too_ related…" She laughed, stepping off the gazebo and making her way back to the factory.

* * *

"_Stupid._ Why'd I think that would work?" He groaned, putting his kitchen back the way it was before that morning- he'd have to wash the dishes out before he used them, of course, but that was hardly something new to him.

"I think you did quite well, kid, everybody wa-"

"They were _laughing at me_, I know it. Ma was right. I just… I thought I could convince them, you know? But that was stupid of me. I… I messed up again, I'm sorry." He took a sharp intake of breath, turning to the forest guardian.

"You did good. Everyone's just scared of your mom, if she hadn't showed up, then-"

"Then _what_? We'd all disperse and get along to some musical montage about taking down the factory? No, they'd shrug and walk away. They don't _care_ about anything I do, it's only when they _get something_ out of it that the- oh, hey!" He stopped, peering out the window to a small gathering of four or five people. He swallowed, dropping the wooden spoon he'd had in his hand as he pulled a hat and cardigan on and ran out to meet the group.

"We're sorry about… what happened, Mr. Once-ler." One of the people spoke up, an older teenager. "That was pretty harsh." The older man blinked, once, then twice, turning his head quizzically before a young woman spoke up.

"We wanna help you, if that's alright." She asked shyly, hiding behind her hair. "I read your flyers, I think it's really important that the trees stop getting chopped down."

"Yeah." One of the men piped up, and he smiled as he looked at the group.

"Oh… um… u-uh… oh! Come in, please, I'll get you some tea or cocoa, we can… discuss things more properly, it's still far too cold to be sitting out like this." The Once-ler motioned for the townfolk to have a seat in his house, though he realised with a flustered gasp that he really didn't have much room to sit. "No, don't worry guys, they're harmless!" He muttered to the forest animals and humans alike as they fluttered and frightened each other. "Um, you can sit at the bed if you'd like, sorry, I don't really have a kitchen table, there's a chair at the desk and- hold on, I'll get one of the chairs from outside-"

They had settled around the makeshift bedroom, the Once-ler busying himself with making tea for his impromptu guests. He cleared his throat a bit nervously, not really sure what one really did with company, handing cups to everyone and garnishing a little girl's cocoa with a copious amount of marshmallows, sneaking one for himself.

"How do we stop them?" He blew on his cocoa, frowning before he leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"I don't really know. The company, we've- er, _they've_- got lawyers and enough money to pay away the problems. The security's pretty tight, too, it's not like we could picket on their property… they'd take us away for sure."

"And what's the problem with that?" The teenager stood, clearly ready to fight "the man" blindly.

"If you can think of a way to save trees while locked in a cell, then nothing, I suppose." He muttered, taking a sip from his cocoa and adding more than enough marshmallows to the top once again. "It's better to be more passive- they'll shut us down if we do anything obvious, but they can't expect to get everyone's side if we're just… sitting… here…" He trailed off, looking out his kitchen window to the forest. "That's it!"

The woman sitting on his bed tilted her head to see what it was he was looking at, giving a questioning look to the others in the small tent.

"What's it, Mr. Once-ler?"

"Please, please, you can just call me Once, if you would prefer. But… _look_! The forest's still here!" He gave a small laugh, setting his cocoa (which was mostly just marshmallow to anyone else, really) on the counter as he motioned. "We'll just _sit here_! They can't chop down the trees if there's people among them. And… and there's enough room in the clearing to set up tents, and if people bring food I can cook it up and we'll just stay here!"

"Do you think that'll really work, Beanpole?" The Lorax piped up, frightening a few of the guests as he stood at the legs of the young entrepreneur. "The bar-ba-loots tried that and your choppin' machines still went right through _their_ trees."

"What is _that_?" Someone asked, and the Once-ler waved his hand dismissively.

"He's the Lorax. He speaks for the trees. And… I'd love to say you have a point, mustache, but there's a difference between people and bar-ba-loots. They can't just chop down people's stuff- we've got lawyers and human means to back us up." He held a hand to his chin, smirking a bit. "I mean, as long as the bar-ba-loots are with me, they're safe, too, and-"

"What do you mean _we've_ got lawyers? I'm sure they're nothing compared to Thneedcorp's lawyers…"

"You forget who you're talking to- I'm the one who _hired_ those lawyers. I've got this all covered, monetarily speaking." He scoffed, taking a sip from his cocoa.

"Do you really think it'll work?"

"Well, no, I can't be too sure about that, because I thought for _sure_ the song would work, but… there's nothing to lose by trying, right?" He nodded to himself, popping a cocoa-soaked marshmallow into his mouth.

"Yeah, I guess so." There was a small, contented sigh. "When do we start?"

"Why not right now? I mean, I'm already set up- there's enough space out front for other people to bring tents or whatever. Tell everyone you can! Make sure _everyone _knows about it!" He hummed, smiling brightly at his guests. "I've got water, and cooking utensils, all of that."

* * *

"Wow, that's a lot more than I was expecting!" The Once-ler smiled, watching as families set up tents in the clearing- they'd brought TVs and generators and radios and iceboxes and even the smallest tent had enough room for all of the tenants. Bar-ba-loots and hummingfish investigated, swomme swans testing the strength of the tents, and some of the animals and the Lorax even helped to hold down stakes as they were hammered down. "Let's just see them take down _all of us_!"

"I dunno, beanpole, that's not something I'd like to see at all…" The Lorax muttered, and the Once-ler ruffled the golden hair of his mustache.

"I meant, there's no way they're gonna!" He waved at the families setting up, beaming as he made his way back to his own cottage. "Ma's not gonna be able to take down all of us… I don't know if she'll even try!"

He should have known, with his luck, and knowing his mother, that she would, indeed, try to uproot the operation when he was so convinced that she couldn't. It probably didn't help that morales were already low a few days into it, bug bites and poor air circulation leaving people sweating and uncomfortable- at least one family had packed up and left with an apology, headed back to the town beginning to be smogged from industry. His mother and aunt Griszelda and his own brothers had shown up with bribes of money and food- he had thought his _own_ cooking was more than enough, and he had offered it and helped to cook food that the tent-goers had brought, though he supposed a number of them were sick to death of vegetarian options. He didn't eat meat and thusly had not the slightest idea of how to cook it, and with all the flammable tents out… it wasn't a good idea to let people set up barbecue pits with open flames. When people left at the promise of monetary bribes, the Once-ler could only watch his mother give him a smirk in return as the clearing in front of his home thinned out. Brett and Chet gave him an apologetic glance as they followed his mother back to town, before she gave a quick snap and took their attention from their ex-brother.

"Look, you wouldn't want weak people like that supportin' you anyway, would you, kid?" The Lorax reasoned as he watched the Once-ler flop lifelessly onto the side of his bed. He gave a heavy sigh and looked at the creature standing next to him before leaning back, the Lorax leaning over him. "You still got more than enough people to make this thing work, you know!" He motioned to the window across from him, and he didn't bother to sit back up.

"I just… I don't know if this is such a good idea after all. I don't think anyone's all that excited anymore, and Ma's just buying them out." He rolled over, clutching a pillow to his chest. "It's really not too much of a surprise, I mean, I… I always mess up everything, and I can't get anything done and my head's always in the clouds and I always needed mom to help me with scheduling because I… I'm just useless." The Once-ler frowned into his pillow, biting his lip to keep from making any audible noise.

"Alright, kid, this ain't a pity party." He took the other pillow on the bed and smacked the boy in the face with it, earning him not even a changed facial expression before he huffed, crossing his arms. "Yer doin' great without your mom around, beanpole! She's just tryin' to get you all riled up. You're your own person, and she knows it- she just don't want _you_ to know it."

"I… I don't know. Ma knows a lot more than I do about a lot of stuff, maybe she's right, maybe I _do_ need her. You think it hurt her feelings when I left? Maybe she's just, maybe I hurt her feelings." He sighed again, looking at the green gaze of the Lorax. "I'll apologise to her tomorrow. I'll go to the factory and see if we can work something out."

"Look, beanpole, that ain't gonna work, I can tell you that right now." The Lorax tried to reason with the human below him, groaning when he rolled over to avoid his gaze. "Suit yourself, kid, but you're not gonna get anywhere. I'm tellin' ya, this sit-in's the best way to go." The Once-ler pulled on the light switch with a long arm, and the nature spirit rolled his eyes as he took his place by the Once-ler's side.

* * *

The Lorax accompanied him on the way to the factory, trying every step to talk him out of it before finally succumbing to the human's stubbornness. He chose instead to cloak himself- invisibility being something the Once-ler had no clue he was capable of- and watched the tall man look around quizzically before continuing on his way to the factory doors. The twins granted him access to the offices with a little confusing dialogue toward the two, and he quickly shuffled after the entrepreneur before the doors closed- or they realised their older brother wasn't allowed.

"Mom!" He swallowed, knocking on the door and straightening his clothes as best he could. She always hated when he had even the slightest hair or cloth out of place, after all. "It's… It's Once. I just wanted to talk, and, um, apologise, if I could-" The door opened slightly, his mother's gaze glaring back at him with a sneer.

"Your apologies aren't welcome around here, _Oncie_. I'm gonna have a good long talk with your brothers for lettin' you in- you ain't welcome in the factory anymore, and I'm gonna hafta ask you to leave _pronto_." Realising how this was going to go, the Lorax edged away from the two as words continued to exchange, making his way back to the twins. He figured he'd wait for the kid there, and comfort him as best he could despite the nagging "told you so" resting at the back of his mind.

"B-but, I just- I'm sorry I got mad at you, and I left, I just- please, listen to me!" He wedged a foot into the door before his mother closed it, and she shot him a particularly venomous gaze.

"Don't make me call security on you, Once, if you come any further I'll get you for trespassing and assault and- _listen to me, young man!_" She rose her voice as her ex-son tried to open the door enough to speak to her face-to-face. "_Brett! Chett!_ Come help your mama!" He swallowed, trying to steel his gaze.

"I just wanna _talk_, Ma. I wanna set things right-"

"You sound just like your _father_, Once, you gonna start throwin' punches soon too?" The comparison brought the Once-ler to a short gasp, the door slamming on thin fingers as he drew back. He winced as he heard his mother calling for his brothers on the other side of the door, voice ridden with unshed tears and fear that broke his heart to hear. It didn't take long for the twins to show up on either side of him, and he threw his shoulders up in a defeated shrug.

"Don't worry, I know the way out on my own." The two boys followed him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the two of them giving an expectant look. He figured they were just making sure he left, though they continued even as he went out the doors.

"… You don't have to watch me go all the way back, you know, I'll head back, I promise. She's not gonna listen to me anyway." His brothers looked to each other, and then back down to the Lorax- who he hadn't noticed was following him as well. "Yeah, I know, meatloaf, I'll listen to you- look, guys, he's coming with me, there's no need to-"

"We wanna help too, Oncie." Brett blurted, and the Once-ler's shoulders stiffened.

"_What_?"

"Ma's not bein' nice to anyone, and she ain't never been very nice to you… this Lorax guy here was tellin' us about them bears and how they gotta go soon if things don't get better. I liked them bears, and Chett did too-" The other twin nodded enthusiastically, giving a thumbs up to the both of them. "And I don't think ain't no one's gonna like things much if we don't got trees." The Lorax gave the Once-ler a wide, knowing grin, and the human smiled back at the three before him.

"But… if you leave, Ma's not gonna let you stay here anymore."

"Don't matter, Oncie." Chett chimed, letting Brett finish with, "I figure we got enough experience livin' outside on a count of the farm."

"_No_! You're my _brothers_, you're… you're family, I'm not gonna let you guys just sleep outside." He snapped, looking at his younger brothers. "Look, you two can stay with me in my cottage. I made it big enough for two, and… well, I mean," The Once-ler pulled on his sleeve, holding up a twig-thin arm to the twins. "I'm hardly much of a person, if I turn sideways you two can practically forget I'm there! It'll be fine." He nodded enthusiastically before his face fell, thinking of the _rest_ of the family. "Ma's not gonna be happy, though… I mean, she's gonna be _livid_ when she finds out what you two are up to… you don't have to worry about it, you can stay here and have food and shelter and… Ma'll still like you two and you'll be happy."

"Shucks, Oncie, you're our _brother_ and even tho Ma says we ain't too smart, we know we gotta stick with you because we's smart enough to see that you gotta do somethin' about all of this smog an' stuff." Brett ruffled his older brother's hair, one of the few people who could actually reach the Once-ler's height with relative ease.

"Them fishies gotta sing and I dunno 'bout them bears but I'd be real sad to see them leave. It's all quiet an' machine-y outside the factory, I kinda miss how it used ta be. At least on the farm, there weren't no _creakin' _all night, even if _you_ were up runnin' around like a chicken wit' your head cut off tryna work on them projects of yours." Chett mimicked his brother, ruffling the opposite side of the Once-ler's hair, a dopey grin on his face.

"What do ya say, kid? You back in for that strike of yours?" The Lorax questioned, standing atop a rock to get any sort of height closer to the three brothers. He pretended to look disinterestedly at his claws, giving a slight glance upward to see the Once-ler pull his brothers into a hug.

"Y-yeah!" He grinned, leading the group back to his cottage- he'd be surprised to find several of the tents had been put back up, and that even more people had come while he'd been away trying to reason with his mother. The brothers gave a round of high fives, the Once-ler's arm and palm feeling quite sore afterward, though he wore a large grin in response, giving the Lorax a small fist bump of victory before turning his attention to a camp full of hungry petitioners, spatula in hand and apron at the ready.


End file.
